Initially I expected Introduction to Fieldcraft to be a type of survival course where a person learned about the environment so they may more effectively overcome it. How wrong was I - not just about the course but my entire approach to nature in general. This is not to say I was some brute who slash and burned rainforest for some personal joy, but, truly, my main perception of nature was how quickly it will destroy a person, or thing, if allowed. This type of one-sided hostility in nature-and-humanity's relationship most assuredly put me into a permanent state of caution when interacting with the natural world. Behind the mental palisades of my discrimination, I was unable to fully perceive both the beauty of nature and its consequential marring through the machinations of humanity. This shift in mental paradigm and outlook didn't occur through some singular moment, it was the myriad of nuanced experiences that culminated in the reshaping of my mind. I may not be able to offer a step-by-step presentation of this alteration but I may be able to compare the past with the present; meaning illuminated by the subtle differences between the two. It is hard to be both retrospective and introspective by itself, much less after being oriented to a novel outlook. However, I am able to draw upon my most vivid experience with nature and recall, even if they are only fragments, my personal feelings associated with the past moment; all so that I may juxtapose how I felt about nature then and how I feel about it now. Through this I hope there is a more accurate account for what I have learned and experienced from this course. To demonstrate something more poignant occurred than merely being mentally stamped with a superficial impression of an 'intended learning outcome'. It is telling of my past perspective that this memory has a violent and life-threatening quality to it. So, in no particular order, not in occurrence or severity, I will start with one of my now intangible interactions with the environment.
I am 6 and presently drowning. What had started off as a simple excursion to the black beaches of Hawaii has eventually led to frenetic clawing at the sea's bottom. An undertow, swift and silent, seeks to pull me further out into what I now imagine as an oceanic Elysium. But then it was the pinched dark of fear-clasped eyes, all coarse grit as my tiny hands raked through the sandy bottom, desperately seeking purchase, silken drapes dragging over my skin - regarding my burning impulse for air an unimportant affair. Then, answering my singular question, the lone tendril of some unseen sea plant lent me its strength and solidarity during my frantic desperation. Tiny, greedy fingers clamped down with vice-like force onto what felt like a root. This lonely, seemingly unimportant plant was now the only actor whose role could turn tragedy to happy melodrama. Its existence, across feet of unbroken sand, provided the few moments needed for my brother to reach down and haul me out of what was only four feet of water.
To this day I still do not know what plant gave me enough purchase to withstand the dragging force of an undertow. However, I never once wanted to know what it was that saved me from drowning. I took for granted that there was something to hold on to, never once going over in my mind how singularly important a single plant had been in my life. This course, by allowing me to slow down and take notice of what is around me, even in Lubbock, a place some would term a geographically and biologically boring location, has been able to show me there are plenty of wonders to be found. To demonstrate the level of my previous disinterest, a simple fact: for well over twenty years I had lived in the Lubbock area and not once had I ever taken notice of a prairie dog. They abound just about anywhere that isn't immediately inhabited, yet I had never seen one. I knew that they existed and never once took the effort, not out of hate or dislike but purely out of apathy. Prairie dogs mattered to me about as much as your nearest ant hill, less so because I probably would have done something to disturb an ant hill. However, partly due because Dr. Tomlinson made such an impassioned account of the creatures, one day I sat off to sit down and quietly watch what then can only be described as cat-sized varmints. And for the first 10 minutes nothing spectacular or interesting occurred, they ran from me and hid in their holes, every so often one would peer over the lip leading into their homes and watch me. And then eventually one came out of his hole and, looking at me, he began to bark. And just hearing that noise made me laugh because it immediately brought to mind an interesting piece of information Dr. Tomlinson told the class regarding social mammals from the order Rodentia - some can actually differentiate between people, their genders, predators, and then communicate that difference to the rest of the colony. Was it describing me to the rest of the colony? If the prairie dog was I sure hope it included 'handsome male' somewhere in its description. Looking further off I saw there were prairie dogs some distance away from me who had come out of their holes. Peering through my binoculars, which without I would not have been able to interact with the environment in this new way, I could see that these previously viewed mongrels had very interesting and endearing characteristics. One particularly large prairie dog was splayed out, tail-thumping the ground, basking in the sun - it was just too, and I hate to use this, 'cute'. The prairie dog looked like he was on vacation! I got out my field journal and began sketching one of the more picturesque prairie dogs, tail curled up and sauntering along in plain sight. And that is when I realized I have never taken more than just ten minutes to sit in the grass, outside of the city, and just patiently wait for nature to run its course - not of my own accord, at least, and definitely not for the sole purpose of experiencing 'nature'.
I will admit I was not a very good birder initially, I could not help but value the behavior of an animal more than the way it looked. To me it seemed that one of the largest problems with birds was their behavior. Unless a person is either lucky and able to view a bird behaving in a particular way, something novel or interesting, something other than the wonder of flight, then what a person ends up watching is a bird flying or perched on a branch. That was truly how I felt. I have been unlucky in never noticing a bird's behavior that has particularly piqued my interest. This was made immediately apparent in Milnesand while sitting uncomfortably in a cold van. The mating rituals of prairie chickens absolutely floored me. The level of development that has occurred up until the present is just mind-boggling. Here I was watching something as beautiful, something I thought unique to Birds-of-Paradise. Located in what would not even amount to a village one thousand years ago, there was this little natural wonder that I had been completely oblivious to. Another wonder that was literally in my backyard. This is a bird that does not take a specific type of person - perhaps a person who has spent more time interacting with nature - to be able to fully appreciate them. I am amazed at their evolutionary paths, their origins, and their development - their very physiology alone is stunning. The difference between Greater Prairie Chickens and Lesser Prairie Chickens can easily be seen from their colorations - not of feathers and plumage, but of their air sacks and eye-cones. It is just absolutely entrancing that both species have developed two physical structures with the same color in one species, orange for GPC, and different in another, plum for LPC. I had previously read accounts on some types of birds actively deceiving one another to obtain food, the altering of feeding habits before migrating across large bodies of water, or displaying defensive behaviors like pretending to be injured to lure away predators. But I have never experienced this myself and I think the very nature of prairie chickens commands both a profound respect and almost stunning level of appreciation, at least to anyone who has seen them first-hand. I may not have been the best student at identifying birds, this is easily demonstrable by going back in memory and recalling the frequent calls of, "Kite! It's a kite." However, while I can say I have improved in my 'gestalt' for birds, the greatest improvement has been the ignition of interest when thinking of birds, particularly ones who lek. On my improvement at identifying birds, I was recently with a friend outside and I spotted a Mourning dove. I quickly drew his attention to it and confidently announced, "That is a Mourning dove." My friend asked me, "How can you tell that the bird is a Mourning dove?" To which I replied, "First, it has those little black scales near the end of its wings, it has the general look of a dove, and well that is just my jizz regarding the bird." After he jumped into a brief discussion of the 'birds and the bees' I quickly stopped him and explained that in just this case, it was only the birds.
While I am speaking of friends, I have had the honor of meeting some very unique and interesting people, individuals who I would like to imagine I would have been able to meet regardless, although, I am ecstatic to be able to say it has happened sooner rather than later. Many I had a lot of face time with and was enriched through that and others it seems like even their faintest presence has impacted my life. Case in point, there was a wonderful lady with whom accompanied my group to observe prairie chickens, so lightly did she touch upon my world that I cannot recall her name. But this is what she gave me - she had traveled from California, a roughly 15 hour drive, to Milnesand just to be given the opportunity to sit in a freezing van and observe prairie chickens jump around and squawk (my oversimplification is for dramatic purpose). Here was another individual as impassioned as Dr. Tomlinson, exhilarated at the thought of being able to sit and watch the behaviors of birds. She was not doing this for a grade in a class, although I imagine that by now everyone in class would have done this regardless of a grade, and she actually made personal family sacrifices just to be able to experience it. She said even if the occasion would remain in the singular for her remaining lifetime this was something she had dreamed of being able to experience. When you see something that is important to someone else, it is imperative to take notice and give respect because in a way we all are very similar in that we display empathy. And to be able to experience, even ephemerally, the drive and passion someone has - you may yourself have the opportunity not just to learn something new but to reimagine the reality that binds us all together. And for me, through this class, through the effort and patience of Dr. Tomlinson, and through my relationships with new friends, I have been given a very special gift which I humbly accept and know would not have been possible without taking notice and giving respect.
So thank you Dr. Tomlinson, thank you everyone from class, thanks everyone from Milnesand - the tiny town with a giant treasure, and thank you everyone at Lubbock Lake Landmark! And every third-party who reads this, realize how important the natural world is to the aforementioned, take notice and please give respect.
My favorite flower - Blue Gilia, Gilia rigidula.
